Writing is writing whether done for duty, profit, or fun.

Life @ 34

Posted on March 28, 2017

I’m wearing my sock inside-out. At a second glance, I realize that not only am a thirty-four-year-old man but a thirty-four-year-old man wearing BOTH his socks inside-out. By this time, you’d think I’d be a thirty-four-year-old man with some semblance of having his shit together. And I wonder when exactly one starts feeling like an adult, because, legally, I’ve been an adult for the last sixteen years of my life. And, yes, I opened a calculator app on my computer to figure out the math. And, yes, I accidentally opened the Hulu app before doing so. And, yes, I am the type of thirty-four-year-old man who keeps his Hulu app right next to his calculator app because why the fuck not?

There’s a scene from a Ben Stiller movie that unnerves me. It unnerves me because how much I relate to it. In it, Josh (played by Ben Stiller) and his wife, Cornelia (played by Naomi Watts), sit side-by-side after the movie’s events come to a close. A defeated Josh turns to Cornelia and confesses to her, “For the first time in my life I’ve stopped thinking of myself as a child imitating an adult.” Understanding where he’s coming from, she responds, “You feel that way too?”

And here I am. A thirty-four-year-old man with his fucking socks inside-out. Trying to figure out the secret to adulthood. Wondering why it hasn’t revealed itself. Moments reveal themselves where my mind still goes into shock about being a father. Five years have come and gone. Still, there are moments where the I’m awestruck that this kid is mine. That he’s half of me. A byproduct of a love that feels like a lifetime ago. I remember a time when he didn’t exist, but cannot fathom a world in which he doesn’t. He keeps me somewhat grounded. Keeps me from moving to far into the dark corners of my depression. Corners I know all too well. Corners that beg me to visit. Corners holding the knife. The plastic bag.